A tall woman entered. Her black corset pushed her breasts up and out, and a sheer, lacy skirt with red accents barely covered her crotch in front. Four men in skintight leather followed. Each wore a full mask. Silence fell. Caitie recognized Glorie Amadori. Everything about her screamed Domme, and she admitted to finding Glorie a very scary Domme at that.
“Good afternoon, my lovely subjects. I'm Queen Grimhilde, Snow White's evil stepmother, and as I survey all of you gathered in this room, I declare that I am still the fairest in all the land.”
Caitie laughed, and her nerves settled as the hostess gave out instructions. Everyone seemed friendly, at ease, and eager to begin. She slid her gaze along the line of women. Well, except for Cinderella. She seemed nervous, and Caitie had the feeling she was as new to this as she was.
“You will each be shown to your quarters for the weekend. Please respect your boundaries. Other couples are also sharing the mansion and grounds. My guards will be on the prowl if anyone has any problems or questions. If you leave the privacy of your rooms or cottages, make sure you wear your masks. We’ll meet as a group in the ballroom Saturday evening for the ball. Until then, remember: Safe, sane, and consensual.”
The Queen called couples and sent them on their way. The wolf claimed Red, Cinderella was taken away by one of the guards, as was Snow White, after the queen taunted her
dearest stepdaughter
. Captain Hook swept Wendy off her feet. Caitie laughed with the others and relaxed.
Okay, this was going to be fun
.
When her name was called, Rapunzel stepped forward. A prince stepped forward as well and was ordered to take his sub to the tower and keep her there until she learned her place. He did so by throwing Rapunzel over his shoulder.
Caitie’s jaw dropped when the Dom ran his hands over the woman’s bared ass. Her face burned with embarrassment. Some guy did that to her in public, he wouldn’t be walking for a week.
“Belle.”
Caitie squared her shoulders and stepped forward, tilting her chin, calling upon a control that had even the toughest horse wrangler on her ranch ready to run if she even mouthed the word.
“Kneel before your queen.”
Keeping her features schooled, Caitie knelt, as Red had knelt before the wolf.
“Head down and hands behind your back, sub.”
This was part of the game, part of the role she was to play, so she did as commanded and submitted to the queen.
“Very good. You understand that for the next three days you are under the obligation to do whatever your Dom orders?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Caitlin drew in a deep breath. How bad did she want a weekend of wild sex and a smorgasbord of orgasms? Enough to answer meekly, “Yes, Mistress.”
“You were given instructions on using safewords. Do you understand what a safeword is and how to use it?”
“The safeword is red. It is used to stop all play.”
“Correct. Play stops to allow you and your Dom to discuss your fears or concerns. The guards are monitors, and it’s their task to assist if there are problems. You’ll be escorted to your cell where your Beast awaits. Are you ready for the games to begin?”
Caitie let out her breath. “Yes, Mistress.” Good heavens. For good or bad, she was here and she was going to do this.
“You may stand, but keep your head down and hands behind you.”
It was awkward to get to her feet without revealing herself to the two men standing at attention in front of her.
The queen circled Caitlin, then slid her hands down her arms. Something soft snapped around each wrist.
Caitie’s head shot up. “Hey!” She yanked at her wrists, shocked to find herself cuffed like a common criminal. She glared at the queen. “Take them off.”
Glorie lifted one brow. “Your Dom wishes you to be bound. This is your first lesson in giving up your need to control.”
Panic ran through Caitie. Her heart raced. “I agreed to give up control for sex. I didn’t agree to this.” She’d read that bondage was part of the BDSM lifestyle, but she’d also figured she had the right to choose whether or not to be bound.
Chuckling, Glorie beckoned one of her guards to join them. “My sweet, handsome slave, what happens to subs when they are disobedient and defiant?”
“My queen, a sub who does not obey is punished.” His eyes gleamed with desire.
“Shall we demonstrate?” She ran her crop over his bare chest and trailed the tip lower, across his crotch.
“Yes, Mistress.” The man spun around, bent over, hands clasped around his ankles as he presented his ass to the queen.
Caitie gulped. Shit, he had a smooth, tanned ass and lots of dark, curly hair from his thighs, to, well, everywhere. Glorie drew a short riding crop from her belt. With a quick flick of her wrist, the whip swished through the air and struck one finely muscled cheek. A thin, red line appeared. The spit in Caitie’s mouth dried, and she widened her eyes. When the man straightened, and shifted to face them, the silky sack cupping his penis was stretched taut.
The queen ran the tip of the whip along his erection. “You, my lovely sub, liked that entirely too much.” The queen’s voice was a low tease.
The huntsman bowed his head. “Yes, Mistress. I confess. I like it when you punish me.”
Chuckling, the queen returned to Caitie. She trailed the tip of the whip across her shoulder and traced circles around each hidden nipple. “That is what happens to subs who do not show proper respect or who do not obey their Doms, so have a care. You are not my sub, therefore, you are not mine to discipline.” She feathered a finger along Caitie’s jawline. “Too bad.” Caitie was relieved until the queen added, “In that manner. But punished you must be.”
Before she could protest, the woman yanked her top down and tucked the elastic neckline beneath one full breast. “Say nothing. This is your first lesson in learning to accept dominance. Accepting my discipline shows your compliance. And respect.”
Embarrassed to have two men staring at her bare boob, Caitie lowered her gaze and swallowed hard. “I can use the safeword, right?”
The tip of the whip tapped beneath her chin. She lifted her head and met the queens amused gaze. “No. As I said, this is your first lesson. Your only choice is to accept or decide this weekend event isn’t for you and leave. From this point on, you are bound by the rules, rules you agreed to in writing. If you have changed your mind, speak now. Do you wish to stay and participate?”
Caitie’s eyes shifted to the door at the back of the room. A third Huntsman entered and joined the other two. Great, now three men were eying her bared breast. She drew in a deep breath and made her decision. She was here. She wasn’t going to chicken out. “Yes, Mistress.”
The queen nodded. “Take her to the dungeon where her Beast awaits.”
Caitie didn’t dare speak, but she couldn’t help feeling angry and humiliated as she was led down a flight of stairs and along a long, darkened corridor toward a set of double doors.
Chapter Three
What was he thinking? Damon paced in front of the fireplace and winced when his thigh tightened painfully. Stopping, he stared at the flickering pillar candles that replaced burning wood. He never took on new subs, preferring women who knew the score, but one glance at his weekend sub, and he had to have her.
For years, he’d existed, survived by going through the motions of living. He often likened himself as one of the walking dead. Everything he’d been before that last mission had been either destroyed or left behind with his team of men who’d lost their lives.
But something about Caitlin Olsen’s photo had sparked a tiny flame in the dark cavity of his heart, mind, and soul. Why? She was beautiful, no getting around that. He’d have to be truly dead not to appreciate her classic beauty—her large, expressive eyes, full lips, and curvy body—but he also acknowledged there was more to her than looks.
Thinking of his role for the weekend, he grimaced. In the fairytale, the Beast was an ugly, deformed man spurned by society, and Damon…he was an injured war hero hiding his beast deep inside with his dark moods.
In the movie, Belle tamed her beast with unconditional love and acceptance, and the beast overcame his curse and became a prince once again. Damon had no such expectations. He’d never been and never would be a prince.
The door to the spacious suite of rooms opened. He shifted from staring into the candle flames. His heart thumped hard as he got his first look at Caitlin Olsen in person. And what a first glance.
She held her head high as she stormed into the sitting room. Her eyes beneath her mask glittered with anger and resentment, those full, sexy lips were compressed into a flat, tight line, and she had one glorious tit exposed. Her skirt swished around her thighs, and her sheer top teased him with the dark shadow of her other breast. More than her body, it was her face that struck him speechless.
Sweet Jesus walking on water! The woman was wild, earthy, and totally unlike any sub he’d taken on. Every stiff line screamed a silent challenge, including the tipping of her chin and the glare in her sparking, golden eyes.
He deliberately lowered his gaze to her exposed tit. He sucked in his gut and swallowed hard. Talk about beauty and perfection. It took every ounce of control not to go to her and cup that perfect mound in his palm and flick his fingers across her dark, dusky nipple. His dick stirred, and suddenly, he was eager to begin his role of Dom.
Aware of her displeasure at his open admiration, he hid his grin, seeing Glorie’s hand in his sub’s exposed state. His gaze returned to her face. From the anger in her features, he’d guess she’d challenged the Queen of Dommes. And lost.
So why was this obviously strong willed woman willing to take on a submissive role? Bryce and Glorie just might be wrong in their assessment of Caitlin. The challenge in her eyes ignited an answering need in him to peel away those layers and find that hidden sub—if she existed.
He straightened, planted his feet apart, and clasped his hands behind his back. The weekend ahead should prove enlightening and entertaining. And a distraction from his own dark moods and thoughts. He suspected that taming this sub would take all his wits.
****
Hot damn. Instead of a beast, Lady Fate gifted her with her very own god.
The man leaning against the mantle was one hell of a hunk from the top of his dark, auburn head to his bare feet. Unlike the men in the parlor, he didn’t wear a mask. He was good looking, but not in a pretty-boy or young exec manner. His face was too tough and hard. The lines etched around his eyes and mouth spoke of someone who’d seen and experienced more of life than most.
Judging from his firm jaw—holy cow, her heart gave a couple hard thumps at the sight of a deep chin dent and lord knew, she had a weakness for a man with a cleft chin—he was not a doormat. Her heart raced. The buzz of attraction swirled in her head, then swept through her body like a whirlwind. She curled her toes, ran her tongue over her front teeth, and let herself absorb her prize for three, delicious days.
Her gaze traced across his mile-wide shoulders, then traveled over his bronzed, muscular chest. His leather vest hung open, and her fingers itched to comb through his thick mat of dark curly hair with a reddish glint to find his twin nipples. With his bod, they were sure to be yummy and sexy as hell.
Her first fear of being stuck with a playmate well past his prime flew out the window. This man playing Beast to her Belle stood straight and tall as though he were in the military and could have stepped off a dude ranch or, considering his attire, the glossy spread of a sex magazine. No wimpy, pale, thin guy with a saggy ass and potbelly for her. Her fingers tingled with the urge to touch and explore. And claim.
He remained silent and still as her gaze traveled from his flat abdomen to the soft and buttery leather chaps snugged low on his hips and buckled around each tree-trunk thigh. Yum. Definitely cowboy material. Too bad she didn’t have someone like him on her ranch. Her rule of no dating the ranch hands would go right out the window. Or barn if she got him into the loft.
And OMG—her heart once again thumped hard against her ribs—his costume had no crotch. As she’d seen in the parlor upstairs, he too wore a G-string sack to hide his goodies and judging from the strain on the fabric, he had prime, yummy man parts.
That first delicious shiver of pure lust morphed to raging need that flooded between her legs like a fall of water crashing into a pool.
Wow
. Her anger at being cuffed against her will, along with the embarrassment at having a boob hanging out faded as she met his intense steel-blue eyes. She stared at his full, sexy mouth and hoped he was a good kisser. His mouth begged to be kissed.
She licked her lips, suddenly nervous again. How did a person begin a cold turkey sexual fling? She didn’t engage in one-night stands, always dated and got to know her past lovers first. “I’m Caitlin. I’ve never been here before. What now?” She knew what she wanted to do—make use of that sofa.
He inclined his head. “I’m Damon. I’ll be your Dom for the weekend. Find the X on the floor and stand on it.”
Damon. To tame.
Oh, yes, she wanted to tame her beast. Like a flame set to gas-soaked briquettes, his gaze on her breast, along with his sexy, deep baritone voice, ignited the ball of lust swirling in her center.
Whew
,
this won’t be so bad
. In fact, if she hadn’t been cuffed, she might have jumped him, tumbled them both onto the couch.
He snapped his fingers, bringing her back to the here and now. “First rule. I don't give instructions more than once. Do as I ordered.”
Caitie sucked in her breath. The lust in her veins cooled and once again, indignation threaded with anger took hold. “Excuse me?” No one had ordered her around since she was thirteen and assumed the role of parent to her younger siblings and caregiver to her mother.